Voices in Summer (3 page)

Phyllis said, 'Oh,
darling,'
and Laura was instantly repentant.

‘That was a silly thing to say. I'm sorry.'

'Perhaps,' said Phyllis, 'if you got a nurse to look after you, then she and Mrs Abney could cope between them. . . .'

'Or I could just stay in hospital?'

'That's a ridiculous suggestion. In fact this whole conversation is ridiculous. I don't think Alec will want to go to Scotland and leave you behind. After all, you're practically still on your honeymoon!'

'We've been married for nine months.'

'Why doesn't he call the whole thing off and take you to Madeira when you're better?'

'He can't. He can't just take holidays when he wants. He's too horribly important. And Glenshandra is ... a sort of tradition. He's been going there forever, every July, with the Ansteys and the Boulderstones. He looks forward to it for the whole year. Nothing ever changes. He's told me that, and that's what he loves about it. The same hotel, the river, the same ghillie, the same friends. It's Alec's safety valve, his breath of fresh air, the one thing that keeps him going, slaving away in the City for the rest of the year.'

'You know he loves what you call slaving away. He loves being busy and successful, and chairman of this and that.'

'And he can't let the others down at the last moment. If he doesn't go, they'll think it's all my fault, and my stock will go down to subzero, if I spoil it for them.'

‘I don't think,' said Phyllis, 'that your stock with the Ansteys and the Boulderstones matters all that much. You only have to think about Alec'

‘That's just it. I feel I'm letting him down.'

'Oh, don't be ridiculous. You can't help it if your wretched insides suddenly go mad. And you were looking forward to going to Scotland just as much as he was. Or weren't you?'

'Oh, Phyllis, I don't know. If it was just Alec I was going with, it would be so different. When we're together, just the two of us, I can cope. We can be happy. I can make him laugh. It's like being with the other half of myself. But when the others are there too, I feel as though I'd strayed by mistake into some club or other and I know that however hard I try, I can never be a member.'

'Do you want to?'

‘I don't know. It's just that they all know one another so well . . . for years and years, and for most of the time Alec was married to Erica. Daphne was Erica's best friend, she's Gabriel's godmother. Erica and Alec had this house called Deepbrook down in the New Forest, and they all used to go their for weekends. Everything they've ever done, everything they remember together, goes back fifteen years or more.'

Phyllis sighed. 'It is fairly daunting. Other people's memories are hard to take, I know. But you must have realized all this when you married Alec'

‘I didn't think about anything like that. I only knew that I wanted to marry him. I didn't want to think about Erica and I didn't want to think about Gabriel. I simply pretended that they didn't exist, which was quite easy, considering that they were both safely miles away, living in America.'

'You wouldn't want Alec to drop all his old friends. Old friends are part of a man. Part of the person that he is. It can't always be easy for them either. You have to see it their way.'

'No, I don't suppose it is.'

'Do they mention Erica and Gabriel?'

'Sometimes. But then there's an ugly silence, and somebody quickly starts another conversation.'

'Perhaps you should bring up the subject yourself.'

'Phyllis, how can I bring the subject up? How can I chat away about the glamorous Erica, who left Alec for another man? How can I talk about Gabriel, when Alec hasn't set eyes on her since the split-up?'

'Does she write to him?'

'No, but he writes to her. From the office. Once, his secretary forgot to put the letter in the post, and he brought it home with him. I saw the address, typewritten. I guessed then that he writes to her every week. But he doesn't ever seem to get one back. There are no photographs of Erica in the house, but there's one of Gabriel on his dressing table and a drawing she did for him when she was about five. It's in a silver frame, from Asprey's. I think if the house caught fire and he had to salvage one precious possession from the flames, that picture would be it.'

'What he needs is another child,' said Phyllis firmly.

'I know. But I may never have one.'

'Of course you will.'

'No.' Laura turned her head on the blue silk cushion and looked at Phyllis. 'I may not. After all, I'm nearly thirty-seven.'

'That's nothing.'

'And if this business with my insides blows up again, then Doctor Hickley says I'll have to have a hysterectomy.'

'Laura, don't think about it.'

‘I do want a baby. I really do want one.'

'It will be all right. This time, everything will be all right. Don't be depressed. Think positively. And as for the Ansteys and the Boulderstones, they'll understand. They're perfectly nice, ordinary people. I thought they were all charming when I met them at that lovely dinner party you gave for me.'

Laura's smile was wry. 'Daphne, too?'

'Of course, Daphne too,' said Phyllis stoutly. ‘I know she spent the evening flirting with Alec, but some women can't help behaving that way. Even if they are old enough to know better. You
surely
don't think there was ever anything between them?'

'Sometimes, when I'm feeling blue, I wonder. . . . After Erica left him, Alec was on his own for five years.'

'You must be mad. Can you see a man of Alec's integrity having an affair with his best friend's wife? I can't. You're underestimating yourself, Laura. And, which is infinitely more dangerous, you're underestimating Alec'

Laura put her head back on the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. It was cooler now, but Lucy's weight lay like a hot-water bottle upon her lap. She said, 'What shall I do?'

'Go home,' said Phyllis. 'Have a shower and put on the prettiest garment you own, and when Alec comes home, give him an iced martini and talk to him. And if he wants to give up his holiday and stay with you, then let him.'

'But I want him to go. I really want him to go.'

'Then tell him so. And tell him that if the worst comes to the worst, I'll cancel Florence, and you can come and stay with me.' 'Oh, Phyllis . . .'

'But I'm certain he'll come up with some brilliant brainwave, and all this heart-searching will have been for nothing, so don't let's waste time talking any more about it.' She glanced at her watch. 'And now it's nearly four. What would you say to a delicious cup of China tea?'

DEEPBROOK

Alec Haverstock, ex-Winchester and Cambridge, investment analyst, manager of the Forbright Northern Investment Trust, and a director of the Merchant Bank, Sandberg Harpers, hailed – and some people found this surprising – from the heart of the West Country.

He was born at Chagwell, the second son of a family that for three generations had farmed a thousand acres or so of land that lay on the western slopes of Dartmoor. The farmhouse was built of stone, long and low, with large rooms made to accommodate large families. Solid and comforting, it faced southwest, over sloping green pastures where the dairy herds of Guernsey grazed, and down to lush, arable fields and the reedy margins of the little river Chag. Farther still lay the horizon of the English Channel, often veiled in a curtain of mist and rain, but on clear days blue as silk in the sunshine.

The Haverstocks were a prolific family, sprouting various branches all over Devon and Cornwall. Some of these offshoots veered towards the professions and produced a string of lawyers, doctors, and accountants, but on the whole the male members of the clan stayed stubbornly close to the land: building up pedigree herds, raising sheep and ponies on the moor, fishing in the summer, and hunting during the winter months with the local foxhounds. There was usually a youthful Haverstock riding in the yearly Hunt Steeplechase, and broken collarbones were treated as lightly as the common cold.

With the inheritance of land passing from the father to the eldest boy, younger sons were forced to look elsewhere for their livelihood and, following the tradition of Devon men, usually went to sea. Just as there had always been Haverstocks in the farming community of the country, the Navy Lists, for a hundred years or more, were never without their quota of Haverstocks, ranging from junior midshipmen to full captains, and sometimes even an admiral or two.

Alec's uncle Gerald had followed this tradition and joined the Royal Navy. With Chagwell entailed to his older brother Brian, Alec was expected to follow the same course. But he was born beneath a different star than his bluff, seagoing forebears, and it led him in a totally different direction. It became very clear after his first term at the local preparation school, that although tough and resourceful, he was also very bright. With the encouragement of the headmaster of this small school, Alec sat for and won a scholarship to Winchester. From Winchester he went to Cambridge, where he rowed, played rugger, and read economics, to emerge at the end of his last year with an honours degree. Before he had even left Cambridge, he had been spotted by a talent scout from Sandberg Harpers and was offered a job with them, in the City of London.

Alec was twenty-two. He bought himself two dark City suits, a furled umbrella, and a briefcase and flung himself into this exciting new world with the reckless enthusiasm of some previous Haverstock riding his hunter straight for a five-barred gate. He was installed in the department of the bank that specialized in investment analysis, and it was at this time that he first met Tom Boulderstone. Tom had already been with Sandberg Harpers for six months, but the two young men had much in common, and when Tom asked Alec to move into his flat with him, Alec accepted with alacrity.

It was a good time. Although they were both kept with their noses firmly pressed to the Harper Sandberg grindstone, there was still plenty of opportunity for the sort of irresponsible enjoyment that only occurs once in most people's lifetime. The little flat bulged with a constant stream of bright young things. Impromptu parties grew out of nothing, with spaghetti boiling up in a saucepan and crates of lager piled on the draining board. Alec bought his first car, and on weekends he and Tom would rustle up a couple of girls and go down to the country to other people's houses, or summer cricket matches, or winter shoots.

It was Alec who introduced Daphne to Tom. Alec had been at Cambridge with Daphne's brother and was asked to be a good fellow and keep his eye on this innocent creature who had just come to work in London. Without much enthusiasm Alec did as he had been asked and was delighted to discover that she was as pretty as paint and marvellously entertaining. He took her out once or twice on his own and then, one Sunday evening, took her back to the flat, where she made him and Tom the worst scrambled eggs he had ever tasted.

Despite this disaster, and somewhat to Alec's surprise, Tom instantly fell in love with Daphne. For a long time she resisted his blandishments and continued to play her own extensive field, but Tom was a dogged fellow and regularly begged her to marry him, only to be fobbed off yet again with endless excuses and procrastinations. His moods, consequently, varied from euphoric elation to the deepest gloom, but, just as he finally decided that he hadn't a hope in hell and was steeling himself to put Daphne out of his life forever, she, perhaps sensing this, suddenly did a
volte-face,
threw over all the other young men, and told Tom that she would marry him after all. Alec was their best man, and Daphne duly moved into Tom's flat, as a very young and very inexperienced Mrs Boulderstone.

It was necessary for Alec to move out, and it was at this early stage in his career that he bought the house in Islington. Nobody else that he knew lived in Islington, but when he first saw it, it seemed to him larger and more attractive than any of the poky mews and cottages that belonged to his friends. It had the added inducement of costing a great deal less than property in other parts of London. And it was only minutes from the City.

The bank helped him with his mortgage and he moved in. The house was tall and thin, but it had a good basement, which he did not really need, so he put an advertisement in the local paper, which was answered by Mrs Abney. She was a widowed lady in early middle age. Her husband had been a builder; she had no children. Only Dicky, her canary. She would have to bring Dicky with her. Alec said that he had no objection to canaries, and it was agreed that Mrs Abney should move in. It was an arrangement to their mutual satisfaction, for now Mrs Abney had a home and Alec a live-in caretaker and someone to iron his shirts.

When Alec had been with Sandberg Harpers for five years, he was transferred to Hong Kong.

Tom was staying in London, and Daphne was wildly jealous. ‘I can't think why you're going and Tom isn't.'

'He's brighter than I,' said the good-natured Tom.

'He's nothing of the sort. He's just bigger and better looking.'

'Now, that's enough of that.'

Daphne giggled. She loved it when Tom became masterful. 'Anyway, Alec darling, you'll have the most wonderful time and I'm going to give you the address of my best girlfriend, because she's out there just now, staying with her brother.'

'Does he work in Hong Kong?'

'Probably Chinese,' said Tom.

'Oh, don't be silly.'

'Mr Hoo Flung Dung.'

'You know perfectly well that Erica's brother isn't Chinese; he's a captain in the Queen's Loyals.'

'Erica,' said Alec.

'Yes. Erica Douglas. She's frightfully glamorous and good at games and everything.'

'Hearty,' murmured Tom, who was in a maddening mood.

'Oh, all right,
hearty,
if you want to spoil everything.' She turned back to Alec. ‘She isn't hearty; she's just the most marvellous person, frightfully attractive.'

Alec said that he was sure that she was. A week later he flew to Hong Kong, and once he had settled himself in, he went in search of Erica. He found her, living with friends, in a beautiful house up on the Peak. A Chinese houseboy answered the door and led him through the house and out onto the shady terrace. Below was a sunbaked garden and a blue, kidney-shaped swimming pool. Missy Ellica was swimming, the houseboy told him with a gentle gesture of his hand, and Alec thanked him and set off down the steps. There were six or seven people around the pool. As he approached, an older man observed him and got out of his long chair to come and meet him. Alec introduced himself and explained the reason for his call, and the man smiled and turned towards the pool.